


The Rocketeer's Return

by LRThunder



Category: The Rocketeer (1991)
Genre: F/M, small fandom bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6590140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LRThunder/pseuds/LRThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cliff thought his days as the Rocketeer were over, but it turns out the Nazis have one last spy to use.  Now, he must take up the mantle of the Rocketeer again to stop this spy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rocketeer's Return

Frederick sneered as he read the headlines. People could be so gullible. Neville Sinclair certainly wasn't killed in an accident. He knew that somehow Sinclair was stopped from acquiring the rocket. His superiors weren't pleased. _She_ was definitely angry.

He sighed as he tossed the newspaper onto the table. In theory, he understood why Sinclair hadn't contacted them with details of the operation. _Need to know_ and all that. Yet, Frederick and his superior were in perfect position to take over, but they didn't know what Sinclair's plan was. All they knew was that he had to acquire the rocket.

He stood up and began pacing around his room. A lot of things could have gone wrong. First, the rocket could be back in the hands of Howard Hughes or the government. Second, it could have been destroyed with Sinclair. Frederick didn't know and that was a problem.

The phone rang and he looked at it nervously. If that was his superior and he didn't answer it, he was a dead man. It rang again and he knew better than to let it ring a third time. He picked it up. "Yes?"

"I take it you have seen the bad news?" a soft, but cold female voice asked.

"Yes."

"He failed. That puts our other plans in immediate danger as well."

"What are my orders?" Frederick asked.

"Find out what happened. Time is no object. Money is no object. I will contact Berlin for further instructions. In the meantime, find out what happened to him and what his plan had been."

"I understand," Frederick replied, and he hung up the phone. He swore under his breath. This wasn't going to be easy, but his superiors didn't care about his job being easy. All they wanted was to make sure he obeyed their orders.

* * * * * *

Getting information wasn't easy. After all, Sinclair hadn't relied on any spies to get the rocket, but outright theft. Frederick knew that Sinclair had relied on the local mob to get the rocket, but somewhere and somehow, things had gone wrong. Fortunately, he had a couple of informants with the police. 

He waited for one of them to show up. He kept the brim of his hat low to cover his face. There wasn't any sense in revealing his identity. It was unlikely that the Feds or the police had anything on him, but he hadn't advanced in his field by taking risks. He checked his watch again. His spy should arrive soon.

He heard footsteps coming from behind him. He resisted the urge to turn around. It was better for his spy to not see his face. "Do you have any information for me?"

"Some. Keep in mind that the police weren't involved in this rocket business, apart from pursuing Valentine's men."

"The distinction is noted. Tell me what you do know."

"According to the papers, Sinclair was killed in an accident. I'm sure you know that's not true. The fact is that the FBI recruited some officers to go with them to the observatory."

Frederick nodded. Sinclair would have handed over the rocket there if he had followed orders. "Go on."

"Apparently there was a big gun battle between the Feds, Valentine's men and some foreign troops."

Frederick resisted the urge to snort. Those _foreign troops_ were his countrymen. "Anything else?"

The spy seemed to hesitate. "I don't have any confirmation, but apparently someone used the rocket."

Frederick frowned. Sinclair's orders were explicit: acquire the rocket, but don't use it. "Did Sinclair use it?"

"No. That much I know. There was an unknown party involved. The FBI knew about this rocketeer's identity…"

He nodded. Now he remembered reading about a so-called Rocketeer in the paper. His superior was concerned, but he had assured her Sinclair would take care of the situation. Apparently, he didn't. This person might know what happened to the rocket. "Do you know who this Rocketeer is?"

"I don't. The Feds do, as do Valentine's men. I would say Sinclair also knew. Anyway, if there isn't anything else, I need to go."

Frederick waved him away. As he left the rendezvous point, he thought carefully, piercing the information together. Valentine's men stole the rocket, but somehow an interloper managed to not only get it but also use it. Sinclair, Valentine and the U.S. government knew the identity of the Rocketeer.

Frederick examined his options, and they weren't good. Sinclair was dead, along with his thug Lothar, so he couldn't get information that way. The Feds wouldn't talk, since neither Frederick nor his superior have had any luck planting a spy yet. That left Valentine's men. There had to be a weak link. In the meantime, he would give his superior this news. Maybe she would know what to do.

* * * * * *

She considered her options carefully as she listened to Frederick's report. She heard rumors that Valentine had turned against Sinclair, but there wasn't any way of confirming that. Sinclair's last report had indicated he had managed to secure Valentine's help in acquiring the rocket. If Valentine had turned against Sinclair, he would be on his guard.

She smiled. Valentine himself would be cautious, but perhaps his men wouldn't. She saw Frederick waiting patiently. He was a well-trained agent. He would do well for the Fatherland. She decided on a plan and informed him. He bowed and left. She was confident he wouldn't fail her.

* * * * * *

"Johnny, sit down," Valentine said as he slammed the phone down on his desk.

"Problem, boss?" Spanish Johnny asked as he sat down. He was very loyal to his boss and hated seeing Valentine upset like this. Whenever Valentine was angry, bad things usually followed.

"There might be a problem with, ah, one of the businesses we're looking after. The business involving the women, if you know what I mean," Valentine said.

"Are the Feds snooping around? I thought they would overlook some of our activities as gratitude," Johnny said.

Valentine grunted. "Fortunately, they're not. No, one of the girls reported a suspicious client asking too many questions. I'm concerned that we may have competition from the East Coast, from say, Luciano."

Johnny grimaced. "I understand. What do you want me to do?"

"Find out what's going on, and take appropriate action if you need to."

Johnny understood what Valentine meant by appropriate action. "Consider it done, sir."

* * * * * *

Cliff Secord didn't know what was going on. First, he had been flying in preparation for the Regionals. Next, he got a phone call, asking him to meet Howard Hughes at his office. Cliff agreed, but only if Hughes agreed to Jenny's presence. He had learned his lesson about keeping Jenny informed of anything happening to him. He didn't want to repeat his mistake.

"What do you think this is about?" Jenny asked as they waited in the reception area. She looked around and lowered his voice. "Do you think this is about the rocket?"

Cliff shrugged. "I can't say, but whatever happens, don't mention that Peevy has the plans to it," he whispered.

She smiled. "Don't worry. I don't intend to. Speaking of Peevy…"

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I think he's been keeping a secret from you."

"What makes you say that?"

"He's been asking that I keep you busy for the past few weeks. It's like he's up to something, but doesn't want you to know about it," she replied.

Before Cliff could ask, the door opened and Howard Hughes stepped out. He smiled broadly and strolled over to shake Cliff's hand. "Cliff! It's good to see you!"

Cliff returned the handshake. "It's good to see you too, Mr. Hughes. At least I'm not wearing handcuffs this time."

Hughes laughed. "That's true. And Miss Blake, it's good to see you as well."

She smiled briefly, then glared at Cliff. "Thank you. What's this about Cliff being here before in handcuffs?"

"It had something to do with the rocket, Jenny. This was just after I found out that Sinclair had kidnapped you. Before I could do anything, the FBI burst in and brought me here," he explained.

"Don't worry, Miss Blake. Cliff explained why he needed the rocket. Fortunately, everything turned out well."

"Why are we here, Mr. Hughes?"

Hughes looked around the reception area, then ushered them inside. He didn't answer until he closed the door. "I'm here to make you an offer, Cliff. You did such a good job with the rocket, why we might need more of your services."

"Who is this we, Mr. Hughes?" Jenny asked suspiciously.

"The government. First, have a seat," he said, beckoning them to two chairs. When they sat down, he sat down behind his desk. "When the rocket was stolen from me, I told the government that I wasn't interested in continuing with it. At first, I thought it was destroyed, until your heroics at the airfield proved otherwise."

Cliff blushed and Jenny beamed.

"But your control of the rocket and what you did changed my mind. Now, we have to be careful, of course. We don't want a repeat incident, but we're rebuilding the rocket and we want you to help," Hughes explained.

"I'm not an engineer. Peevy is the one you should ask. In fact…" his voice trailed off.

Hughes looked at Cliff and Jenny knowingly. "Let me guess: he's been working behind your back?"

They stared at him. "How do you know?" Jenny asked, the suspicion in her voice deepening.

"Because I asked him to. He's been coming here every couple of days to help rebuild the rocket and make some more."

"So that's what's he been doing. Jenny told me he was acting strangely."

"That's right. We want you to help train the new, if you pardon the expression, rocketeers once we have enough rockets made," Hughes explained.

Cliff glanced sideways at Jenny, trying to guess her reaction. She appeared calm, but she often appeared that way when she was angry. "Wouldn't that be dangerous?" she asked coolly.

"Yes, but he wouldn't be seeing any action. First, there isn't a war. Second, he would only be training the new rocketeers. The danger shouldn't be that high," Hughes replied.

"What about security?"

Hughes stood up and began pacing around his office. "Yes, we would have to improve our security. That's where our, ahem, unofficial security consultant comes in."

Cliff narrowed his eyes. He wondered. "Eddie Valentine?"

Jenny gasped as Hughes nodded. "Yes. He's agreed to help in two ways. First, he'll tighten control of certain illicit activities so that no other organization can move in. The FBI will overlook some of his actions."

Cliff understood. "That way another German spy can't use the mob the way Sinclair did."

"Exactly. Second, since it was his men that penetrated our security here, they'll point out ways where we can improve. Not to mention, they'll provide extra muscle," Hughes said. "It's not an ideal situation, but I'm sure it will work. The only question I have: will you help us?"

"Do you mind if I take a few days to talk it over with Jenny and Peevy?" Cliff asked.

"I would be surprised if you didn't," Hughes agreed.

* * * * * *

Spanish Johnny liked the ladies, but he hated dealing with their immediate supervisor. Unfortunately, it was necessary. She always wore a sneer on her face, but maybe that was because she couldn't do the necessary work. Even though she was unpleasant, she wasn't stupid. She knew the consequences of being rude to him.

"So who was the girl who saw this interloper?" he asked, sitting down without being invited.

"Daisy Field. One of our new ones," Helen McCrumb said. "I know what you're thinking, but she's a hard worker, if you understand me."

"I take it she's bringing in a lot of money?"

"And a lot of men. She's been so successful with her seduction techniques that I've actually had to ask her to tone it down. I mean, the rest of the girls have to meet their quota, don't they?"

Johnny nodded. "I'll need to speak with her, of course."

McCrumb stood up and walked to the door. "I figured you would." She opened the door and yelled, "Field! Get in here!" 

A minute later, a woman with curly blond hair practically danced into the room. She had a radiant smile and bright blue eyes. Johnny understood how she was able to seduce men so easily. If he wasn't careful, he would be in danger of being bedded by her. "I take it you're the dame that saw the intruder?"

"It wasn't an intruder, really. He was just asking questions about the operation, like he had experience running this outfit," Daisy Field said quietly.

Johnny nodded. He suspected as much. If another mob was trying to move in on Mr. Valentine's organization, this would be the place to start. "How many times has he visited this establishment?"

"I've had him twice. He's tried asking both times, so after the second time, I followed him," she said.

Johnny saw McCrumb's eyes flash angrily. He felt the same anger. "You what?" he demanded.

The first signs of terror filled her eyes. "Well, I figured you would want to know."

"Daisy! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is!" McCrumb demanded.

"We can't afford to lose a dame of your talent," Johnny added. "I'm sure Helen will talk to you more about that, but in the meantime, where did he go?"

"An abandoned warehouse near the outskirts," Daisy replied.

Despite her foolishness, she may have provided Johnny an opportunity. "Do you think he's going to be a regular?"

"I'm sure of it," Daisy nodded.

"Then here is what you're going to do. Listen to me carefully," he said menacingly.

* * * * * *

Johnny knew he should have gotten a couple of his associates to go with him, but since he was only going to find this hideout, he figured it would be safe enough. He drove until Daisy told him to stop. As he stared at the warehouse, he knew it was the right place.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked nervously.

"Stay here. I'm going to have a look around," he said, reaching for his gun.

"What if there are more goons in there?"

He smiled. "Don't worry. They won't be able to stop bullets," he said, indicating his gun. "Wait for me here. If you see anyone else, you beat it, okay?"

"But…"

Johnny gave her a look of warning, and she nodded. She knew better than to argue. He left the car and walked to the warehouse, checking for spies. Confident he was alone, he closed in on the warehouse.

He was about to reach the door when he heard a scream. He turned and saw a shadowy figure wrestling with someone in the car. It was Daisy. He raised his gun and started running, when he was struck from behind. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * * * * *

When Johnny awoke, he found himself tied to a chair. The room he was in was dark, except for a bright light shining in his face. He squinted, trying to see if he was alone. Judging by the footsteps echoing around the chamber, he wasn't.

"Ah, he's awake. Good work," a female voice said.

"What have you done with Daisy?" Johnny snarled.

Sharp laughter rang out. "Don't worry. She's being taken care of," the speaker said smugly.

"If you've harmed her…"

"Worry about yourself," a man snapped. Johnny gritted his teeth. The new speaker sounded like a German. Apparently, those Nazis hadn't all died at the observatory.

"What do you want?"

"We want to know what happened to Neville Sinclair and the rocket," the female replied.

"The more freely you talk, the easier it will go for you," the man added.

"Well, I've got news for you. My boss doesn't like stool pigeons, so getting me to talk isn't going to be easy," Johnny sneered.

He couldn't see his captors, but he imagined the smirks on their faces as the man replied. "Good. I've been well-trained in extracting information from unwilling subjects. I'd hate for my skills to go to waste." Before Johnny could respond, he felt a sharp blow across his legs. "Let's start with your knees, okay? You'll be surprised at how much pain a man can endure before death claims him."

* * * * * *

Helga Hoffner watched the interrogation with a neutral expression. While she respected the prisoner's resilience, she didn't have a lot of time. She hoped Frederick was able to extract the information from him soon.

To the Americans, she was known as Martha Wilson, up-and-coming Hollywood star, like her associate, Neville Sinclair. Like Sinclair, Hoffner had been ordered by the Fatherland to prepare for war against America. She was to be the backup for Sinclair if he failed to get the rocket. If he had succeeded, her primary mission would have been propaganda.

Her only lead had been Sinclair's use of Valentine's gang. She knew that if this Spanish Johnny didn't tell her the truth, she wouldn't be able to succeed with any of his fellow gangsters. This was her best chance to discover the truth.

Yet, she had to give Spanish Johnny credit. Despite the pain Frederick was inflicting on him, he wasn't giving in. True, he would cry out every time a blow was delivered, but that didn't mean he was any closer to talking.

"Frederick, enough," she commanded.

The beating stopped and all she heard from Johnny were his low moans. "He's not going to talk. He's worthless," Frederick said darkly.

"I've come to the same conclusion myself. Dispose of him, but don't make it quick and painless," Hoffner said.

A wicked grin appeared on Frederick's face. "How about we leave him to die in the desert?"

"Fine. Just make sure he dies."

* * * * * *

"When were you going to tell me, Peevy?" Cliff asked as calmly as he could.

"When Mr. Hughes told you. He wanted this kept top-secret, considering what happened last time," Peevy replied as he showed Cliff his progress so far. "I've made some improvements over the old rocket."

"What kind of improvements?"

"Well, you'll still have to turn your head to turn, but you won't have to keep your hand on the ignition to power up the rocket. Here, let me show you." Peevy picked up what looked like a seatbelt. "The ignition is here on the strap. Just press it once and off you go."

"That will come in handy. What did Mr. Hughes have to say?" 

Peevy chuckled. "He basically kicked himself for not thinking about that. The idea is to free up the rocketeer's hands as much as possible."

"In case there are Nazi agents shooting at him and he can shoot back?" Cliff asked dryly.

"Well, that wasn't the example I was going to use, but that would work. Now, what about Jenny? What did she have to say?" 

"She's glad she's being kept in the loop this time." Cliff stopped and grinned. "She even gave me some good news. She has a couple of scenes in Martha Wilson's new film, and not as an extra."

"Really? I mean, Martha Wilson's no Neville Sinclair…"

"Bad example, Peevy."

"Right, but her movies have been getting rave reviews. Tell her congratulations for me," Peevy said.

"You can tell her yourself. After our test flight tomorrow morning, we'll be having dinner with her and Miss Wilson at a certain club," Cliff said.

"Really? Is that the same club that…?" Cliff nodded. "I'm surprised Martha Wilson invited us."

"From what Jenny's told me, she's very friendly. She likes to get to know her co-stars really well, even the extras. Plus, I think the club's manager has overlooked the earlier incident, considering what happened afterwards."

* * * * * *

The sun rose over the horizon as a car pulled away from the warehouse. They made sure they didn't draw any attention from the police. They couldn't afford to. The two men paid little attention to the sounds in the trunk. They had orders to dispose of him, but they didn't want to make it look like murder.

They would take him outside the city limits, dump him, and let nature take its course. After all, who knows what wild animals ventured near the city?

* * * * * *

So far, so good. The test flight was going well. Cliff had a smooth takeoff, turning sharply to avoid the rising sun getting into his eyes. He hoped that this time the flight would go smoothly. The last time he flew, things had gone horribly wrong. His old plane had somehow malfunctioned, forcing him to have a crash landing, with a car bouncing off him into a fuel truck, causing an explosion.

Bigelow had forced Cliff and Peevy to do a dangerous stunt for an airshow, but that was before Cliff had found the rocket. If he had thought things were bad then, well, that was in the past. He was confident that nothing was going to go wrong this time.

Cliff executed a sharp turn to fly to the north, passing open fields as he continued his flight. He frowned. He thought he saw something on the ground. Was it a car? There appeared to be two men. Maybe their car had broken down or something.

* * * * * *

They heard the plane before they saw it. They looked up and saw the plane closing in on their location. Snarling, one of the men dropped Johnny to the ground and picked up a gun. He pointed it at the sky and opened fire.

* * * * * * 

Cliff saw the gun, and immediately banked to the left, but it was too late. Bullets ripped through the plane, causing immediate damage. He had to be careful not to turn too hard too quickly, but he needed to return to the airfield as quickly as possible.

 _So much for nothing going wrong this time._ The plane's engine sputtered as he neared the airfield.

* * * * * *

Peevy saw the plane's approach and groaned. "Here we go again." He whistled and help poured out of the hangar to help Cliff on his approach. As the plane landed, Peevy checked around for any extra cars or fuel trucks. Fortunately, history wasn't going to completely repeat itself.

As the plane taxied to a stop, Peevy saw the bullet holes. As they helped Cliff out of the cockpit, Peevy said, "Cliff isn't going to like this."

* * * * * *

"Let's scram!" one of the men yelled.

"But what about him?" the companion asked, indicating Johnny, who was still alive, albeit barely.

"I don't know if that nosy pilot's dead, but if he isn't, he'll have the police crawling over us within minutes! Let's beat it!"

His companion snarled. Frederick wasn't going to like this.

* * * * * *

"Peevy, get your truck," Cliff said.

"What?" Peevy asked, stunned.

"I said, get your truck. Someone shot at my plane…"

"I can see that, Cliff!"

"They may have murdered someone and almost killed me so I wouldn't see anything," Cliff said furiously.

"And you want to go back? Cliff, that's nuts!" Peevy looked around and lowered his voice. "The rocket isn't ready for flying."

"Which is why you're going to need to drive."

Peevy swore. "If Jenny finds out about this, she'll kill us both!"

Nevertheless, he told the others that he had to go with Cliff on an errand. They climbed into the truck and drove off. "I hope you know where you're going."

"So do I, Peevy."

Peevy rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. I just hope this is worth it."

After a few minutes, Cliff said, "Stop! We're here!" Peevy reacted instantly, slamming on the brakes. Cliff jumped out of the truck and ran to the prone body. He knelt and examined him. "Peevy! Come here, quick!"

Peevy sighed and hurried over to join Cliff. "This man's still alive," Cliff said.

"Maybe your flight scared his attackers off," Peevy said. He narrowed his eyes. "You know what, Cliff? This guy looks familiar."

Cliff looked at the man and frowned. "You're right, he does. I don't think we should take him to the hospital."

He expected Peevy to argue, but to his surprise, he didn't. "We'll take him home with us. I just hope we're not making a mistake."

"You and me both," Cliff muttered.

* * * * * *

When Cliff picked up Jenny, she could tell he was nervous about something. She allowed him to kiss her, then took his hand. "Cliff, what's wrong? Did something go wrong with the flight?" She had a feeling that history was about to repeat itself.

"Yes, but I'd rather not tell you now," he said apologetically. "And before you ask, there were others who knew what happened because they were there. I don't want to spoil the evening."

"Cliff," she said warningly, "we talked about this."

"I know, and once we're finished with dinner, I'll tell you everything. I promise not to leave out any details. Jenny, please trust me," he said urgently.

She nodded. "Fine, as long as you tell me everything after dinner," she warned him. "And you can leave the truck here."

Cliff looked at her curiously. "Why? I thought we were going to the South Seas Club."

Jenny grinned and beckoned to a black car. "Miss Wilson has offered us her own car for the evening."

He looked up and saw a driver bow politely before opening the door. Cliff whistled. "I wonder what Martha Wilson has in mind."

"Only an entertaining evening, I hope."

When the driver dropped them off at the club, Cliff had to admit he was nervous being back here. The last time he was here, he narrowly avoided being killed by Sinclair and Valentine's goons. "It's a good thing that Valentine and his men are on our side now," he said as he offered his arm to Jenny.

She nodded, also remembering her own experiences with Sinclair. "Let's hope this dinner ends on a better note than the last one did."

* * * * * *

Hoffner had to relax. Before she had left for the South Seas Club, she had received news from Frederick about Johnny, and it wasn't good. Some nosy pilot had interrupted the killing attempt on Valentine's goon, and now he was gone. As a result, Frederick killed the two men. A message needed to be sent. Losing them didn't matter. If all went well tonight, she would have at least recruited one replacement.

The poor, hard-working Americans of Los Angeles were unbearably naive. She targeted the ones who barely got by. If they had relatives or significant others in the entertainment business, she would entice them with a part in one of her films. As they would get used to it, then she would spring the trap. By the time they noticed, it was too late. If they tried going to the police or FBI, they would be considered foreign agents.

It was a pity that Sinclair hadn't tried this tactic, but then again, his priority had been the rocket. Hoffner, however, had been sent over as backup for Sinclair, but also to begin making pro-German propaganda films. The longer the Americans could be delayed in opposing the Fatherland, the better her country would be in the inevitable war. The United States, unlike Germany, didn't have a Ministry of Propaganda, so Hollywood would have to suffice.

She waited for Miss Blake and her boyfriend by the entrance. She had determined that her target would be the boyfriend. She would offer Miss Blake bigger and bigger roles in later films until her reputation was associated with Hoffner's. Then the trap would be sprung.

Hoffner smiled as she watched the young couple walk in. "Hello, Miss Blake. It's wonderful to see you again," she said, offering her hand.

"Thank you, Miss Wilson," Jenny said, shaking her hand.

"And who is this handsome gentleman?" Hoffner asked.

"This is my boyfriend, Cliff Secord," Jenny replied as Cliff extended his hand. "He's a pilot."

"Really?" _That could be useful. He could be the one to find the nosy pilot. Maybe he would even have a lead on who the Rocketeer had been. Yes, he could be very useful._ "And do you like being a pilot, Mr. Secord?"

"It has its moments, Miss Wilson," he said.

Hoffner smiled. "Please, call me Martha. Now, I think our table should be ready." Almost on cue, someone walked up to her and showed them to the available table.

* * * * * *

They had just ordered dinner when a waiter walked up to the table. "Mr. Secord, you have a phone call."

Cliff looked at his companions. Jenny nodded. "Go ahead and take it."

Martha Wilson smiled. "Besides, I need to talk with her about a few things about her scene. Private stuff until the film is released, you understand."

Cliff nodded and followed the waiter to an available phone. "This is Cliff Secord."

"Cliff, how's dinner?"

"We've just ordered. How's our guest?" Cliff asked, lowering his voice.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Remember how we both thought he looked familiar?"

"Yeah," Cliff replied, not liking where the direction this conversation was going.

"Well, he was the thug that threatened me at the diner. Actually, the one who said my memory needed to be refreshed," Peevy said darkly.

Cliff narrowed his eyes. He remembered that incident alright. Ironically, that led to his previous visit to the South Seas Club. "Do you think we should turn him over to the Feds?"

"No, Cliff. What you should do is talk to Valentine. He owns the club, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"Talk to him. Tell him one of his boys got roughed up and that he's safe, for the time being. As for our guest, we're not moving him. I don't think anyone spotted us bringing him home, but let's not take any chances. For all we know, Sinclair could have some henchmen still lurking around. German-speaking henchmen, if you catch my drift."

"I understand. I'll go ahead and talk to him, if he's available," Cliff promised.

"The sooner the better."

* * * * * *

To say Eddie Valentine was angry was an understatement. He was furious. Whenever he was furious, someone usually died violently. Not even the battle between his men and Secord had caused him this much fury. Now, Spanish Johnny was missing. Did his absence have anything to do with trouble from the East coast?

There was a knock on the door. "Come in!" he barked. The door opened and one of his men stepped in. Valentine could see someone standing right behind him. "Any news from Johnny?"

"Not directly, sir, but there is someone here who has some news on it."

Valentine was surprised to see Secord. "Well, if it isn't Secord. At least you're appropriately dressed for dinner here."

Secord shrugged. "Jenny and Martha Wilson insisted on it."

"The actress?" Valentine asked, surprised.

"Jenny was offered a role in her new film, and she invited us to dinner to discuss the particulars. Actually, I imagine they're discussing it now. Anyway, I have some information about your man." Valentine listened as Secord talked. Valentine's scowl deepened as Secord went on. "And he's at our house, because we thought taking him to the hospital wasn't a good idea."

"You're right, it wasn't," Valentine said darkly. "Sinclair's thug killed one of my men there." He calmed down. "I have to thank you for your help, Secord. I obviously owe you. How long until he recovers?"

"The doctor said he looks worse than he actually is, so he should be fine in a couple of days. Right now, I'm concerned that his attackers might discover that it was me who rescued him."

"Don't worry about it, kid. I can't speak for your airfield, but if you want, I can post a couple of my men there to keep an eye on your plane, and you when you're there," Valentine said.

"I don't want to inconvenience you, Mr. Valentine."

"Nonsense. As I said, I owe you. Actually, this is the second time I owe you."

Secord frowned. "The first?"

"For exposing Sinclair as the dirty spy he was."

* * * * * *

Jenny and Miss Wilson were talking by the time Cliff returned. "I'm sorry for the delay, but Peevy needed to ask me something about the plane."

"Is everything fine?" Martha Wilson asked.

"Oh, sure. It's just technical stuff that confuses me at times, but that's Peevy," he grinned. "So, what part is Jenny going to play in your new film?"

Jenny smiled and took his hand. "Martha wants it to be a surprise."

Wilson nodded. "Competition is so fierce among the studios that the director wants to keep things under wraps for the time being. But don't worry, Cliff. Jenny is destined to become a star."

"I could have told you that," Cliff said, causing Jenny to blush.

Martha Wilson was about to respond, when a waiter walked up to her. "Miss Wilson, excuse me, but you have a phone call."

Jenny raised her eyebrows. "I'm wondering if I'm going to get a phone call as well before dinner."

"I'm sure it's nothing. If you'll excuse me," Wilson said. She stood up and left the table.

Cliff waited until she was out of hearing range, then asked Jenny, "Are you sure you can't tell me about your role?"

"If you tell me what happened today with your flight."

He grimaced. "Right, but you're not going to believe this, nor are you going to like it. The flight was going well, until someone decided to shoot at me."

Jenny gasped. "Cliff, are you serious?"

"Deadly serious. Fortunately, I was able to return to the airfield without any difficulty, but my plane will not fly anytime soon."

"Cliff, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry. I'm fine, but if you didn't like that, you won't like what I have to say next." He looked around, checking for any eavesdroppers. "While someone was shooting at me, I noticed that the person was preparing to attack someone else on the ground. Once I landed, Peevy and I went to investigate."

Jenny's face darkened. "You went after the men who shot at you? Are you crazy? What were you thinking?"

"I know, it was stupid, but someone was in trouble. Fortunately, their intended victim wasn't dead and we were able to get him some help," Cliff explained.

"At least he's in the hospital." When Cliff didn't respond, Jenny narrowed her eyes. "He is in the hospital, isn't he?"

"No, because that's where his assailants would have looked. Peevy and I took him home with us. He'll be fine, but he needs to recover. Someone put a beating on him."

Jenny appeared speechless. "I think you should go to the police."

"We can't. That will guarantee he will be found, and that's not the worst part."

"What's the worst part?"

Cliff winced, fearing Jenny's reaction. "Our guest is none other than one of Eddie Valentine's men."

* * * * * *

Hoffner knew she had to be careful since there were people entering and exiting the club. "Report," she said quietly.

It was Frederick on the other end of the line. "We found the plane, but so far haven't been able to find the owner."

She scowled. "Why not? Shouldn't there be some documentation indicating who the owner of the plane is?"

"True, but either the pilot misplaced it, or someone removed it. Since it looks as though the plane has been repaired, they must have guessed that someone would try snooping around."

Hoffner figured Frederick was correct. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I'll have someone keep an eye on the hangar. Sooner or later, the pilot will have to come back, and then we'll find out who he is."

"That is a good strategy, but the pilot may have friends watching out for you," she pointed out.

"True, so we'll be careful," Frederick promised. "Oh, there's one more thing. We found a picture in the plane. I assume it's a picture of the pilot's girlfriend."

"That could be useful. Does it have her name?"

"Yes. There's some writing on it. It says 'love, Jenny.'"

Hoffner turned her head towards the dining table where Secord and Blake were talking. Secord as a pilot, and his girlfriend's name is Jenny. It could only be a coincidence, yet it was a lead worth following up. "Okay, Frederick, forget the hangar. I want you to go to Cliff Secord's address."

"Is he the nosy pilot?" Frederick asked.

"I don't know, but it's part of the plan. If he is the pilot, then we'll know where he is so we can make him pay for his nosiness. If he isn't the pilot, then I'll need it for recruitment purposes. Now, I have to go. Let me know when you have it."

"Understood."

* * * * * *

Jenny's head seemed to be spinning. First, Cliff was shot at and forced to make an emergency landing. Then the man he rescued was not only a gangster, but worked for the mobster who had worked for Sinclair. "I hope this isn't going to end up like last time."

"It won't, Jenny, I promise. I told Valentine as well, so that's why the phone call took so long. He owes me a huge favor, and he's the type of person who will repay that debt. So, if those other thugs try anything, they'll get a surprise."

"I just hope we're not the ones getting a surprise. Do you think you should tell Mr. Hughes about…?"

Cliff shushed her, indicating that Wilson was returning to the table. She sat down and said, "I'm sorry that took so long, but it was just some business that I needed to take care of."

"Don't worry about it," Jenny said calmly.

Cliff nodded and was about to speak when two men walked up to the table. He sighed. "What now?"

The taller of the men turned to the women. "Which one of you is Jenny Blake?" He seemed to have a dislike for Wilson.

Jenny frowned. "I am."

The shorter man handed her an envelope. "This is for you, Miss Blake. You are ordered to appear before the House of Un-American Activities Committee in two weeks' time."

Martha Wilson frowned and glared at them. "Excuse me, but we're in the middle of dinner. Besides, do you know who I am?"

The taller man sneered. "Yes, we do, Miss Wilson. It's because of who you are that your companion is being summoned."

The shorter man added, "Miss Blake, if you fail to appear, you will be held in contempt. Have a nice dinner."

Neither Cliff nor Jenny had an appetite, even though their meal arrived. 

* * * * * *

After dinner, Wilson invited Cliff and Jenny to her home. "I know it's late, especially for you, Jenny. But I figure an explanation is in order after what happened."

Cliff looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

Wilson sighed. "First, let me tell you my real name: Helga Hoffner. Before you say anything, yes, I'm from Germany."

Jenny winced. "I don't mean to be rude, but it's…"

"...an explanation why the government issued that summons," Cliff said, throwing a warning look at Jenny. He didn't want Hoffner to know about the incident with the rocket, even if she was completely innocent.

"That's exactly it. I moved here to America shortly after the war, but anti-German sentiment was still high, so I changed my name."

"If you didn't tell us you were German, I would never have guessed," Jenny said. "I can't hear any accent."

"It's there if you know to listen for it. Besides, I've spent a couple of decades perfecting my English, so that would explain it," Hoffner explained. "Now, let's talk about the government and my films. This isn't the first time they've tried to come after me. Usually they target a co-star and try to intimidate them into falsely accusing me. Given the environment Hitler is fostering over in my native country, I can't blame them for their fear, even though it's misplaced."

Cliff frowned. "Why haven't they tried attacking you directly?"

Hoffner smiled. "You haven't met my lawyers, have you? They could give even the slickest politician a run for their money. These Congressmen may rule in Congress, but when it comes to the courts themselves, they know they'll lose. Therefore, they go after someone who isn't as well protected. Fortunately, they haven't succeeded yet."

"But neither of us have any money for a lawyer," Jenny said.

"Don't worry about it. As I said, the bullying tactics of Congress haven't worked, because I've protected my co-stars. Like you, they didn't have the money for lawyers, but they've done favors for me," Hoffner said.

Cliff narrowed his eyes. "What kind of favors?"

"Rather mundane ones, I assure you. Don't worry. I won't ask you to do anything illegal." She turned to her driver. "Henry?"

"Yes?"

"Please take Miss Blake back to her residence. I need to speak to Mr. Secord for a few minutes. Once you return, you can drive him home."

The driver nodded. "Miss Blake, if you'll follow me."

Jenny looked at Cliff uncertainly. "Don't worry, I'll be fine," he assured her. She nodded and left. Cliff turned back to Hoffner. "Do you already have a favor in mind?"

She waited until they heard the door close, then her smile turned nasty. "Yes. An associate of mine is already at your house, checking on a guest."

Cliff stood up and snarled. "What do you mean?"

"Sit down!" she commanded. Just then footsteps echoed through the room menacingly. Cliff looked over his shoulder and saw three men pointing guns at him. He reluctantly obeyed her. "There, you see? A dog can follow orders. My associates started off as my co-stars. Unfortunately, I sense some resistance in you. I suspect you won't be so easily manipulated as they are."

"I have a bad experience with actors with loyalty to Germany," he snapped.

"Whatever," she said. "Now, here is the favor. My associate is at your house as we speak. If a certain guest is there, I'll think up something else for you to do. If he's not, then I want you to turn him over to me."

Cliff was afraid. Peevy was at the house, watching over the mobster. While the gangster may be on the mend, they could easily be overpowered by Hoffner's goons. He clenched his fists in frustration, since he couldn't call Peevy to warn him, nor could he warn Valentine.

"And what will you do with him?" he asked.

"That doesn't concern you, at least not yet. It depends on how cooperative he will be this time." She looked up and nodded to her men, who grabbed Cliff by the arms. "Take him back home and help Frederick and the others if necessary. And one more thing, Secord: don't breathe a word of this to anyone. Not only do I have access to you, but I can also strike at your girlfriend. Get him out of my sight."

* * * * * *

Peevy glared at Spanish Johnny as he dressed. "Listen, Pops, I know you don't like me for what I did, but it was business. It wasn't personal," Johnny said.

Peevy snorted. "Yeah, tell that to my face that was almost burned."

"At least I called them off."

"Only because you spotted Jenny's handwriting and endangered her," Peevy retorted.

Spanish Johnny rolled his eyes. "She was already in danger by being in Sinclair's company. On that note, you need to tell the kid to be careful. Whoever roughed me up is after the Rocketeer."

Peevy had suspected that, but he was glad his suspicions were confirmed. "Don't worry. Cliff knows…"

Spanish Johnny raised a finger. "Quiet! Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

The mobster glared at Peevy. "Someone's outside. Possibly a snooper."

"Or maybe it's Cliff."

"Why wouldn't he use the front door?"

As much as Peevy hated to admit it, the gangster was right. "I just hope the house doesn't get shot up again. Wait here. Better yet, hide."

"I'm not going to…"

"If they are your assailants, your presence here will get us both killed! Now hide!" Peevy snapped. "I don't have a gun, and neither do you. So, the only chance we have is for me to do the talking."

His words had barely left his mouth when there came a loud knock on the door. "FBI! Open up!"

Spanish Johnny glared at Peevy. "I didn't call them, but let me talk to them."

"Don't do anything stupid," the gangster warned him.

"Don't tell me what to do. You don't have a gun or any friends this time. Now, hide!" Peevy barked. Spanish Johnny continued glaring at him, but complied. Peevy shook his head and made his way to the front door.

He opened it to see two official-looking men standing on the doorstep. "Can I help you?"

One of the men reached into his coat and pulled out a badge. "FBI."

"Let's hope you don't shoot up my house this time," Peevy said, not caring who he was directing the remark to.

"Don't get smart with us. We're here to look for a dangerous fugitive. Can we have a look around?" the second agent asked.

"Do you have a warrant?" Peevy countered. He knew the FBI could probably get away without one, but he had to give the gangster time to hide. He wondered. Was it possible that the FBI was also after him in addition to his attackers? Well, he would worry about that later.

The first agent leaned closer to him and snarled. "We can get one, but then we would do more than simply shoot up your house. We will tear it down brick-by-brick. I suspect you would soon wish we had shot your house."

The second agent apparently wanted to play the friendly agent. "Look, pal, this fugitive is very dangerous. He's a mobster, one of Eddie Valentine's best men. You do know who Valentine is?"

"Yes," Peevy replied.

"Then you should let us search the house. We'll be gone before you know it."

Peevy sighed. He hoped he had bought his guest enough time. "Very well, but be quick about it."

"Thank you," the first agent said rudely, pushing Peevy aside as they entered the house.

* * * * * *

Cliff couldn't move. His escorts kept him still as they watched Cliff's house from a distance. Before being shoved into the car, Hoffner had told them to help the others others if necessary. If the search failed to turn up Johnny, then they would be flexible.

Cliff watched as one man hurried up to the house and met two more who exited. They had a conversation, then turned and headed up to the car. One of them beckoned for Cliff to get out. "Secord, I presume."

"Yeah. So?"

"Apparently Miss Hoffner was wrong. You haven't been hosting a certain guest," the man said.

Cliff was relieved. Either Spanish Johnny had been smuggled out of the house already, or Peevy had found him a good hiding place. "What now?"

The man pulled a cigar from his pocket. One of his companions pulled a lighter and lit it. "What Miss Hoffner wants now is for you to find the pilot who rescued him. Don't object. While we don't have any proof that you're the pilot who rescued our target, we know there was a rescuer. You have two days. Let's go."

The speaker and his two associates went to another car, while Cliff's escorts returned to their car. The two cars raced off into the night, leaving Cliff to ponder his next move.

* * * * * *

Hoffner examined the picture carefully. There wasn't any doubt; Secord was the pilot who rescued Spanish Johnny. If only she had this picture at the South Seas Club, but it was only a minor setback. "You did well to bring this to me, Frederick."

Frederick smiled. "What should we do? We can teach Secord a lesson."

She stood up and paced around her living room. "No, I have a better idea. I don't have any proof, but I think I'm starting to grasp the situation. Secord spots Valentine's man being attacked and his plane gets shot up. He risks being killed to rescue the mobster. His friend somehow smuggles their guest out or hides him."

Frederick snorted. "I know the likeliest possibility."

Hoffner nodded. "Now, he could be a very charitable person, but I think there's more to him than meets the eye. Why would he and his friend risk so much to help a stranger like that?"

Frederick shrugged. "I don't know."

"I think I do. We know that Sinclair used Valentine's men to steal the rocket. That was our original goal in questioning that mobster. But I think the reason Secord tried so hard to protect him is that he knows the gangster."

"He doesn't seem the type to rub elbows with the mob."

"No, he doesn't," Hoffner agreed, "but what if he was an ally of convenience?"

Frederick frowned, then his eyes widened. "Does that mean he's the Rocketeer?"

"It would certainly imply that. An unlikely scenario, but likely enough to pursue. Now, here's what I want you to do. We may need to use all of my agents that I've recruited."

* * * * * *

Cliff knew Jenny wouldn't like the plan, but he didn't have any choice. "Jenny, things are getting too dangerous. I don't know what Hoffner has planned, but I don't want you involved."

He could hear her impatience over the phone. "Cliff…"

"Jenny, just trust me, okay? I have a plan, but I don't want a repeat of what happened with Sinclair."

"Okay," she replied, her voice sounding calmer. "What do you want me to do?"

"Like before, go to your parents' house, but this is the part you're not going to like. I'm going to ask Valentine to have one of his men take you."

Jenny shouted at the same time as Spanish Johnny. Cliff looked over his shoulder and quelled the mobster's objection with a glare. "I know, but Valentine says he owes me, so I'm collecting on that debt. I know we could go to the FBI, but I'm afraid that Hoffner may have some agents on her side."

"Cliff, what if Hoffner has recruited some of Valentine's men?"

"I doubt it, but you'll know his man when you see him. Look for him to carry a rose with him," Cliff explained.

Jenny laughed. "Is he looking to be my taxi driver or a date?"

"I know, but this is the best way for you to avoid being tricked. That way, you'll know that Valentine sent him. Will you do this?"

She sighed. "Okay, Cliff, but once this is over, we'll need to have a long talk about your adventures."

"I think Peevy wants first crack at me."

"You bet, Cliff," Peevy said loudly enough for Jenny to hear him.

"Okay. When can I expect Valentine's driver?" she asked.

"As soon as we're finished talking, I'll give him a call."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Cliff. I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, hanging up. He added, "I hope I know what I'm doing as well." He picked up the phone and began to dial.

"Wait a minute, Secord, this is your plan?" Spanish Johnny objected.

"Yes, it is. It's not perfect, but I can't think of a better one at the moment."

The mobster grumbled, but didn't raise any more objections, which Cliff was glad for. He had to wait a minute before Valentine answered the phone. For the next couple of minutes, he discussed his plan, and Valentine agreed. Once he hung up, Cliff turned to Peevy. "Peevy, how far along is the new rocket?"

"It's ready, but it still needs testing. Why?" Peevy asked cautiously.

"I have a feeling we're going to need it. We'll have to call Mr. Hughes, of course."

* * * * * *

Jenny was nervous. The last time she was around any mobster, she was a captive. Now, they were going to be acting as her security. Once again, she hoped Cliff knew what she was doing. Arrangements had been made for her escort to arrive before curfew. That should avoid any awkward explanations to her roommates.

A black car pulled up to the curve. The driver got out and opened the rear door. Out stepped the last person she expected to see: Eddie Valentine himself. He had the rose, as arranged by Cliff.

"Miss Blake," he said, nodding in greeting.

Jenny gulped. "Mr. Valentine."

"Secord told us you were to be taken to your parents' house, correct?"

She nodded, indicating her suitcase. "Cliff didn't say for how long, so I packed a few days' clothes. I didn't expect you personally."

Valentine beckoned to one of his men, who took the suitcase and put it in the car. "I owe Secord a debt for looking after one of my men, and I believe in paying debts. If you'll follow me."

Jenny followed him to the car, where she was asked to get into the backseat. Valentine sat on one side of her, while another mobster sat on the other side. "I know it's a little tight back here, but this is for your safety."

"I understand."

Valentine nodded and indicated to his driver to drive away.

* * * * * *

Cliff suspected Hughes wouldn't be in the mood for his request. He was right. "Are you out of your mind, Secord? The only reason you're involved in this is because you agreed to a strict protocol. I didn't agree for you to use the new rocket just to play hero!"

Peevy gave him an _I told you so_ look. "Look, Mr. Hughes, I understand your frustration and your reluctance, and yes, I agreed to your terms. When I did so, these events hadn't happened yet. But we have evidence of another Nazi agent operating in Los Angeles."

FBI Agent Woolinski snorted, but Hughes threw a warning glance at him. "And do you propose that you fly in, nab this agent, and drop him off at Alcatraz?"

"Her, sir. We know her as Martha Wilson," Cliff said.

"First, Neville Sinclair and now, Martha Wilson. Who's next? Clark Gable?" Woolinski retorted.

"Secord was right about Sinclair, Wooly," Hughes reminded him. "Still, I don't know. What about Miss Blake?"

Cliff smiled confidently. "Don't worry. I have a plan to secure her safety."

* * * * * *

"Boss? We have a problem," the driver said.

"What's going on, Joey?" Valentine asked, immediately putting Jenny on her guard.

"Someone's following us. I noticed our tail after the last couple of turns we made," Joey replied.

Valentine cursed. "Miss Blake, is it possible that Hoffner knows where we might be taking you?"

Jenny paled. "She might. She knows where my parents live."

"If I was her, I'd probably have someone waiting for us there," Valentine muttered. "Alright, Joey, change of plans. I'm sorry, Miss Blake, but I don't think Secord would be too happy if we drove you into an ambush. Joey, try to lose them. Once you know you've lost them, drive to McCrumb's place."

"Yes, boss," Joey said.

Jenny turned to Valentine. "Who's McCrumb?"

"Helen McCrumb. She is the intermediary for another business I run."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're not talking about…?"

"I am, but don't worry. All you'll have to do is hide there. I'll make that very clear to her," Valentine promised.

* * * * * *

Hoffner had a feeling that Valentine was trying to lose her. Even though there were a couple of cars separating them, she knew her driver could keep up with them. Yet, Valentine seemed to be taking bigger risks. He was speeding, not enough to endanger the rest of the traffic, but enough to get some separation.

Her driver eventually came to that same conclusion. "I'm about to lose them. What should I do?"

Fortunately, she liked having alternative plans ready. "Don't try to catch them. I believe I know where they're going anyway, so I've already arranged for a small welcoming party for them." She chuckled. Beside her, Frederick grinned.

* * * * * *

Cliff had to get used to the new rocket. Unlike the older version, this new rocket had more power to it. Fortunately, the changes made it easier to steer. He wasn't going to accidentally go off course anytime soon. Once he got used to the steering, he immediately flew to Jenny's parents' house. If all went according to plan, he would persuade them to allow him to use their car to drive her to another place of safety.

Initially, he thought her parents' place would be safe, but he started to think that Hoffner might know the address. He was not going to take any chances with her safety. As he soared over the city, he flew high enough to avoid unwanted attention, but low enough to see where he was going.

Finally, he neared the house and was about to land, when he spotted an unfamiliar car. It was parked across the street, with one man inside, and the other leaning against it, smoking. They didn't look like Valentine's men, which meant they were probably Hoffner's. Cliff cursed. He couldn't land there and expose the fact he had the rocket. He had to look for another place to land, and try to take them by surprise.

Cliff found the perfect spot. It was behind a couple of other houses near the Blakes. The spot looked far enough away so he wouldn't disturb the inhabitants. He landed and saw some bushes nearby. He quickly stowed the rocket and helmet, then started walking to the Blakes. Regardless of whether Jenny was already there, he would have to take care of the strangers.

Of course, it was possible that they were waiting for someone else. Cliff snorted. That was very unlikely. Fortunately, he had a plan. First, he watched them carefully. At first, he feared they might spot him, but they seemed to be staring at the Blakes' house. So, he started walking in their direction, keeping a hand in his pocket.

The man leaning against the car spotted him first. He turned, narrowed his eyes, and put his hand in his coat pocket, like he was going to pull a gun. "Easy, pal. I'm just walking here. Nice night, eh?" Cliff asked in a friendly tone. While the guy didn't respond, he relaxed. Cliff made a show like he was looking for a cigarette and a lighter. "That's a nice cigarette. Do you have another one?"

If the man was suspicious, he didn't show it. "Sure," he muttered. As he reached into his pants pocket, Cliff attacked. The man fell quickly to the ground with two punches. The driver turned in his direction and was about to get out, but Cliff had already pulled the partner's gun. "Easy there, pal. Just step out of the car and hand me your gun."

The driver cursed under his breath, but obeyed. Keeping the gun trained on the driver, Cliff said, "Okay, now walk. Don't do anything foolish." The driver had no choice but to obey as Cliff forced him to walk to the Blakes' house.

Mr. Blake was surprised to see Cliff, but even more surprised to see his prisoner. "Cliff, what in the…?"

"Do you have any rope? You might want to tie this goon and his buddy outside, then call the police," Cliff said.

"Sure, but what's this about?"

"They were waiting to harm Jenny," Cliff said grimly.

* * * * * *

"Boss, why are we back here?"

Valentine glared at his subordinate. "Because, Secord might need to call here, and we'll need to tell him that we had to hide his girlfriend somewhere else."

A minute later, the door to Valentine's office opened and Spanish Johnny walked in. "Sorry, I'm late, boss, but I had to hitch a ride," he said, pointing to Peevy who walked in with him.

For the first time in a while, Valentine smiled. "It's good to see you, Johnny." He turned to Peevy. "Thank you for looking after him."

Peevy's smile was strained. "Don't worry about it, as long as Jenny is safe. I assume she's at her parents by now."

"We had to change plans because we were being followed," Valentine explained.

The phone rang and Spanish Johnny answered it. "Yeah? Mr. Valentine's here. She settled in okay? Good. Wait a minute, McCrumb, who's looking after her?" The others in the office watched as Johnny looked confused, then his face darkened. "Thanks for telling me." He hung up the phone. "Mr. Valentine, we have a problem. You put Secord's girl with the women, right?"

"That's right. Why?"

"McCrumb just called and told me Daisy Field is looking after her. The problem is that I thought she was killed when I was attacked. That means…"

Valentine swore. "She's working for Hoffner. Alright, boys, let's go. I hope we can get there before Hoffner does."

Peevy looked confused. "What does that mean?"

Valentine snarled. "It means there's a rat in my organization and that Miss Blake's hiding spot isn't as safe anymore."

Before Peevy could respond, the phone rang again. Valentine angrily picked it up. "Hello? Oh, it's you, Secord. You did what? Okay, that's what we figured, which is why we moved your girlfriend somewhere else. I'll tell you the address, but you might get there before us."

* * * * * * 

Cliff barely had time to say bye, before he hurried out the door. He wasn't worried about the Blakes, since the two thugs were tied up and Mr. Blake covered them with a shotgun. He hurried to where he had hidden the rocket and helmet, hoping he would get to Jenny in time.

Even though he wasn't familiar with the actual address, luckily he knew the general area. But the problem was that the area was more populated than the Blake residence, so he had to be extra careful.

* * * * * *

Hoffner waited in the car. She had to admire Valentine's thinking. She would never have thought to look _here_ of all places. She sent Frederick in, while three others waited outside. He probably wouldn't need them. After all, if there were any men in the building, they would be customers and not exactly in a position to resist Frederick. If the women cooperated, Frederick's visit wouldn't take long.

Once Jenny Blake was in her clutches, it would be time to settle matters with Secord. Regardless of whether he was the Rocketeer, she was going to kill him. If he was the Rocketeer, so much the better, even though it was unlikely that a replacement rocket had been built.

As she sat in the car thinking, she heard a loud roar from overhead. Hoffner frowned and stepped out of the car. Two of her men pulled guns from their coats. "What was that?" one of them asked.

Hoffner shook her head. "I don't know. It could be...wait," she said, as a thought occurred to her. "Jackson, let's move this car out of sight. I think I know what, or rather, who made that sound."

* * * * * *

The women watched Frederick fearfully. He smirked as he kept his gun pointed at them. "Now, don't worry. I'm only here for one particular dame. As soon as I have my, ah, appointment with her, I'll leave."

McCrumb put up a brave front. "I'm sorry, but all appointments for the day have been cancelled."

Frederick's smirk grew. "My gun says differently. Besides, this particular girl probably isn't working, but hiding."

McCrumb paled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? Daisy, step forward."

Daisy Field moved towards him, ignoring the surprised looks she was getting. "Where's Miss Blake?"

The surprised looks turned to glares, but none of the glares were as prominent as the one coming from McCrumb. "You backstabbing…"

"Shut up!" Frederick said coldly. He turned back to Daisy. "Well?"

Daisy glanced at the brunette standing right next to her. "She's in Anne's room."

"Thank you." He pointed the gun at her, then pulled the trigger. "No loose ends. Now, Miss McCrumb, I know this front entrance is the only way in or out, so don't try to have Miss Blake escape. Go to Anne's room and bring her to me."

"You'll just kill us!" Anne said, her voice trembling.

"I will if McCrumb doesn't follow my orders."

McCrumb realized she didn't have a choice.

* * * * * *

Cliff realized he wasn't armed. He hoped that he would be able to spirit Jenny away before Hoffner's goons were armed. If he wasn't, he hoped Valentine would show up with reinforcements soon.

As soon as McCrumb's building was in sight, his hopes were immediately dashed. Two men jumped out of the darkness and opened fire. Cliff immediately ducked back around the corner. He got ready to fly in case the goons chased him.

For some reason they didn't. He waited around the corner, expecting to hear more gunfire or footsteps. Instead, he only met silence. What were they up to? He poked his head around the corner again, and the men pointed their guns at him again. He quickly hid again.

"Secord! If you surrender the rocket, I'll let you live," Hoffner called out.

So that was why the men hadn't resumed firing. They didn't know if he was armed or not, and therefore didn't want to risk their boss getting hit. Cliff saw no reason to disillusion them. "And if I refuse?" he yelled. "All I have to do is fly away."

"I know, but your girlfriend will have to die. I'm a practical woman, Secord. I don't like to kill unless it's necessary. Give me the rocket, and both you and Jenny will walk out of here alive. Refuse, and she'll die. Not only will she die, but all those other women will also die. You don't want the lives of the innocent on your conscience, do you?"

Cliff cursed under his breath. She was right. He could fly away now and leave Jenny and the others to die. Even if Valentine showed up soon, people would still die. He realized he didn't have a choice.

* * * * * *

Frederick snarled. "Where is she?"

McCrumb smirked. "You didn't really expect her to show herself. Like the others, she has survival instincts."

Frederick pressed the gun barrel to her back. "Tell Miss Blake that if she doesn't surrender herself soon, you'll be the first one to die."

She stopped and turned around. "I'm not exactly a screamer, so she probably won't be able to hear me. Besides, you made a mistake."

He sneered. "Yeah, what's that?"

McCrumb's smirk widened. "You should have brought a second goon to keep an eye on my girls."

Frederick turned around, and barely avoided the knife. Three of McCrumb's girls had crept up on him, each bearing a knife. He raised his gun, but forgot McCrumb was now behind him. She wrapped her arm around his neck. "Grab his gun!"

They complied, but despite the numerical advantage, he threatened to use his strength to throw them off. "Alice! We need something to knock him out!" McCrumb ordered.

One of the girls ran off, leaving McCrumb and the others to continue their struggle. Frederick was slowly gaining the advantage. They knew once he was free, he would overpower the girl with the gun before she could stop him. "Alice, hurry!" McCrumb said.

Alice returned with a vase and smashed it over Frederick's head. He dropped to the ground, unconscious.

"Miss Blake, you can come out now!"

A door at the end of the hall opened, and Jenny stepped out. "Are there any more?" she asked.

McCrumb shook her head. "Not in here. They're all outside." They froze when they heard gunfire. "Either that's the police, Valentine's men, or…"

Jenny's face paled. "Cliff!"

* * * * * *

Cliff was about to unstrap the rocket, when two cars pulled in, their headlights almost blinding him. The gunmen turned around, but before they could do anything else, three men jumped from the two cars and opened fire. Cliff took the opportunity to dodge the gunfire.

He made his way to the building, where he was almost immediately knocked over by a hug. "Cliff!"

"Jenny, are you alright?"

McCrumb smiled. "She's fine. We got that bastard real good," she replied, pointing to an unconscious Frederick on the floor.

"Valentine's men are here, and they'll take care of Hoffner's men," Cliff said.

As soon as he said that, there was the roar of a car engine. Maybe it was the FBI. One of the girls looked out. "There's a black car that just pulled away."

Cliff gritted his teeth. "Hoffner."

"Cliff, you can't let her get away."

"I don't intend to."

* * * * * *

"Drive!" Hoffner ordered. Her driver was only too happy to obey. As the car raced away, she gritted her teeth. Her plans had been foolproof, yet a simple pilot and his girlfriend had ruined everything. Fortunately, she still had plenty of agents to call upon. True, she would have to go into hiding, but with people she recruited, she would eventually succeed.

Unfortunately, her superiors might not give her enough time. After Sinclair's failure, their tolerance had run out. For all she knew, they would have another agent who was in perfect position to kill her. If only the traffic would stop making that roaring noise.

She frowned. It wasn't the sound of the other cars that was making that dreadful sound. It was the sound of a rocket. She turned around, but couldn't see him. Yet, she knew Secord was in pursuit.

Fine, if he wanted to play that game, then she would play by her rules. She had one last trick to play. It was one last trick. If it failed, then it would be over.

* * * * * *

Cliff was surprised to see the car pull over. He almost expected to have to chase her halfway to San Francisco. He landed a short distance away. If either Hoffner or her driver were armed, he would have to take off quickly. Therefore, he approached the car carefully.

The driver's side door opened, and the driver stepped out. He raised his hands, indicating he was unarmed. "Hoffner, step out!" Cliff ordered.

She obeyed. He could see her face was red with fury. "Secord, I have an offer for you."

He wasn't interested in any deals, but he was willing to play along. If nothing else, it would give Valentine or the Feds time to catch up to them. "I'm listening."

"It's clear that you've won, but you obviously know who I work for," she said, starting to walk towards him, clutching her purse.

"The Nazis."

Hoffner nodded. "After Sinclair's failure, I can't go back to them empty-handed, so I think a compromise is in order."

Cliff looked at her suspiciously. "What kind of compromise?"

"You hand me the rocket, and I'll give you the names of every agent I've recruited here in Los Angeles."

"You can't be serious. Why should I hand you a dangerous weapon?"

"I'm offering a trade of equal value. In fact, the trade would be in your country's favor. The agents I am offering to you could do your country more harm than an army of Rocketeers could do. My agents are well placed. They're embedded in the police, your political structure and the entertainment industry. Consider how easy it was for Sinclair and I to infiltrate Hollywood," she said as she continued walking towards him.

"As tempted as I am by your offer, I'm going to say no," Cliff said.

"Then you are a fool," Hoffner snarled. She reached into her purse and pulled out a gun, pointing at him. "If you won't give me the rocket willingly, I'll take it from your corpse."

Cliff was about to take off when he heard a gunshot. He winced, expecting to feel the piercing pain of a bullet. Instead, he saw Hoffner's wide eyes as she collapsed to the ground, dead. Standing behind her was her driver, who wasn't unarmed after all. 

Cliff would have thanked the driver if he didn't see the gun pointed at him now. "Now, please give me the rocket," the driver said in a foreign accent. What surprised Cliff that it wasn't German. Instead, it was…

"You're a Russian," he said.

The driver grinned. "Hoffner found out that I was a spy for Stalin and recruited me. So, I decided to work for her, finding out her secrets so I could both turn her in and give crucial information to Moscow. Now I have something even better: a military weapon. Give me the rocket, Secord."

"And I suppose you'll let me walk away," Cliff said sarcastically.

The driver shrugged. "I probably should kill you, but you don't know my name or anything else about me. I can afford to be merciful, but only if you give me the rocket now."

Cliff glanced down at Hoffner's body. Her gun was on the ground, but he knew the driver would shoot him if he made an obvious attempt for the gun. He continued to hesitate, but a car pulled up in the distance. Out stepped Valentine and two other men. Cliff decided on a gamble.

"Alright," Cliff said, slowing unstrapping the rocket from his back. Keeping an eye on both the driver and Valentine's men, he slowly placed the rocket on the ground. The driver grinned and stepped forward.

At that moment, Cliff acted. The gun wasn't pointed straight at him, so he saw an opening. He lunged forward and started battling for the gun. The driver snarled, but before he could point the gun, two more men grabbed him from behind.

"All right, pal, drop it," Valentine said, pressing his gun into the driver's back. "Are you alright, kid?"

"Yeah, sure."

"What should we do with him?" the other mobster asked.

"Turn him over to the Feds. They'll be interested to know that this guy is a Russian spy."

* * * * * *

"Great work, Secord," Hughes said, shaking Cliff's hand.

"I couldn't have done it without the help of Valentine and his men," Cliff said.

Agent Woolinski rolled his eyes, but he kept his bitterness down. "Still, we destroyed a couple of spy rings, both German and Soviet. Hopefully, Hitler and Stalin will think twice about trying to plant any spies here in the future."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Cliff said. "Anyway, Jenny and I have come to a decision, Mr. Hughes."

"Oh?" he asked, eyeing Cliff suspiciously.

"We've agreed that I'll help train the first group of rocketeers, but after that, I'm going to stick with racing planes. She thinks that's a lot less dangerous," Cliff explained.

"It probably is," Hughes agreed, "and it's a good thing you brought that subject up. Both the government and I have agreed to permanently stop trying to develop the rocket for warfare, at least for people. There may be other applications later, but it's going to be on hold for now."

Cliff nodded. "I understand."

"Secord, if you ever get tired of racing planes, I would like for you to work for me. I could always use some good pilots, and despite the risks you take, you are an excellent pilot."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir." Cliff shook Hughes's hand and walked out of the office.

The End


End file.
